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At The End Of The Road
At The End Of The Road “Thanks Melissa,” I said to barista, accepting the warm cup of espresso. She smiled at me, and handed me my cinnamon twist as well. I had been coming here for almost six months now, ever since I discovered the only place in Nueva York that made tasty, decently priced coffee. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when I took classes at the culinary school that Danny taught at, I came here first to get my caffeine fix. I was so predictable that Melissa had my order ready for me each day; the cup of coffee brewed just seconds before I came in. I had told myself when I moved in with Danny that I would take up a café job along with the culinary classes, but I had yet to do that. For the mean time, I would stick to buying my coffee instead of making it. Originally, when I had promised Nancy and Sid that I would take some classes here, I was only going to sign up for one, two at the most. I mean, seriously, it’s not like they were keeping that close tabs on me. But, after only a week at the culinary school, I had gone ahead and signed up for a total of four classes, surprising everyone, including myself. I was now taking a pastry class taught by my bio-brother Danny, two “Basic Cooking” classes, and my personal favorite, a class dedicated entirely to coffee! I know right? How awesome is that?! Now that I was learning about things I actually cared about, the whole idea of getting up in the morning for school didn’t look so terrible. I carried my steaming mug to my usual spot – a comfy chair right by the window, where I could sip my drink as I observed the people who passed. Danny had once told me that New York was “the world’s biggest small town”, and I had no choice but to believe him because it seemed that somehow, I was always running into someone that I knew. On my first trip to visit New York, over a year ago, I ran into my ex Justin, AKA the guy who knocked me up at boarding school and then allowed me to go to the abortion clinic by myself, using money that my bio-dad had sent to me. The next time I visited the city over Easter break, I somehow managed to find myself exchanging numbers with a boy named Luis. I had fooled around with him on my aforementioned visit to get my mind off of Shrimp, and had never expected to see him again. So here I sat, legs tucked up underneath me, looking blankly out the window to see if I recognized any of the faces. As usual, they were all unfamiliar to me, but each day I sort of hoped that I would spot someone that I knew; someone totally random that might brighten up my otherwise boring life. I had been a very good girl since I moved in with Danny. I could honestly say that my last kiss was with Shrimp, the day he left for New Zealand, and I still had no immediate plans to change that. I saw cute boys all the time, and I knew exactly when one was interested in me, but for some strange reason, no part of me wanted to get involved with someone, even for just one night. For now, I was content in taking my culinary classes and hunting for a good part-time job. “Mind if I ask you something?” Melissa said as she took a seat across from me in a matching, cushioned chair. I looked around and saw that I was currently the only customer in the café, which was obviously why she wasn’t worried about chatting for a few minutes. “Sure,” I said with a shrug, taking another sip of my espresso. Melissa leaned forward and tugged up the sleeve of my t-shirt, pointing to the small tattoo on my inner arm. “What’s that for? I mean, I’m assuming it stands for something because most people wouldn’t get permanently inked with a little ocean creature if it didn’t mean something,” I laughed, “It’s just a reminder of someone that I used to be close with.” I glanced down at the pink shrimp on my arm and smiled. I wondered if the real Shrimp, wherever he was right now, was looking down at his Nestle Crunch Bar tattoo as well and thinking of me. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy or anything,” Melissa said after a moment of silence, “I just like knowing why people choose to get the tattoos that they do. You hear lots of interesting stories from the customers who come here!” I nodded, admitting that I had noticed people with some very interesting body art come in here. “It’s funny though,” she said, as the bells over the front door jingled and construction worker came lumbering in, “There was a boy in here yesterday night, just as I was about to close up, who had a tattoo in the exact same spot as yours. Not a very common place to get one; at least not from what I’ve seen!” I nearly choked on my coffee, “Did you see what the tattoo was of?” I questioned, getting to my feet for no apparent reason. Melissa stood up too, giving me a weird look. “Yeah, it was a candy bar or something weird like that. But I didn’t get a chance to ask him about it. He left right after I got him his –“ “– double shot,” I whispered, finishing her sentence for her. “Yeah,” she said slowly, her eyes widening, “How’d you know?” I shook my head, brushing off her question, “His tattoo…it was a Nestle Crunch wasn’t it?” Melissa nodded, “Do you know him or something?” I set my coffee down on the counter and wrapped my untouched cinnamon twist into a napkin, dropping it hastily into my bag. “Yeah, you could say that.” My mind was spinning, and it wasn’t from the caffeine. Shrimp was in New York! I hadn’t heard from him once since he left, but I had expected that. He was off doing his own thing more then halfway across the world, and I knew that he was happy. But why was he here now? “I’ll see you Friday,” Melissa called uncertainly as I rushed out the door, not sure of what my next move was. I had Danny’s class in twenty minutes, and I didn’t want to bail, so I headed off down the sidewalk my thoughts racing by a mile a minute. Today we were making soufflé. Mmm, my favorite, so I was temporarily distracted from thinking about Shrimp. But nothing gets past Danny, who was shooting me questioning looks the entire class. I tried to make a quick exit, to avoid his interrogation at least until I got home that night, but he blocked me at the door. “Something going on?” he asked, blocking me from leaving me station. I shook my head a little too quickly, and I could tell that he didn’t believe me one bit. “Hmm…well, even if you don’t want to tell me, I thought I should let you know that you missed something when you came in,” “Huh?” I said, utterly confused. “Missed what?” Danny spun me around so that I was facing the sink at the back of my station, and pointed to a large piece of paper. It was folded in half, and tucked in between the flower and sugar containers – somewhere I should have noticed it right away. My heart drummed against my chest as I reached for it, knowing immediately that this was a piece of paper torn from a sketchbook. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Danny was watching me carefully, so I turned until I knew he wouldn’t be able to see. I unfolded it carefully and studied the beautiful colored pencil drawing. It was a picture of me, but I looked different. Shrimp must have drawn this based on his last memory of me, and in my opinion, I had changed since then. I had cut my long dark hair into a shoulder-length bob and thrown in a couple bleach blonde streaks in with the purple one. It shocked me that the purple streak had stayed in my hair for so long, but like my tattoo, it was a secret reminder of Shrimp, so I didn’t mind that it was still there. “So…” Danny said, standing on his tiptoes to see it, “What is it?” “A drawing,” I replied, trying to keep my voice casual. “A drawing?” Danny looked confused, but only momentarily, then it looked like something in his mind clicked and he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s from that boy. Squirt, or something, right?” “It’s Shrimp!” I hissed at him, grabbing my bag off my stool and heading out the door. I hurried down the hall and into the girls’ bathroom where I could look at this in peace. This drawing didn’t exactly look like all of Shrimp’s other artwork, so I studied it carefully. It was me standing on a sidewalk in a city that I could only guess was meant to be New York and I was climbing into a cab. I knew that he wouldn’t leave this for me for no reason – there had to be a hidden meaning. I leaned against the sink and scanned the picture again, looking for anything that would tell me why he left this for me. Damnit Shrimp! Why couldn’t you make this a little easier? That’s when I noticed that the building in the background had one of those digital clocks in the front window. 6:00. I also saw a newspaper sticking out of my Sailor Moon backpack that was slung over my shoulder. The headline on the front was only half visible, but I smiled and saw that it said something about an “Outback Steakhouse”. Now I knew that this was no coincidence. I smiled and looked at my watch. It was only noon. Dios Mio! How was I going to make it six more hours? These past six months without Shrimp had actually been rather relaxing, but I never stopped thinking about him. I knew that I could have gone with him to New Zealand, and we could have gotten married as planned, but I wasn’t that girl, and I knew that he probably preferred it this way. Now he could enjoy his surfing and his art alone…at least, I hope he was alone! It was horrible when I let my mind wander enough and I saw images of him hooking up with foreign chicks. I shuddered.